


I’m Comin’

by missing_archive_401



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Dutch is Dad, Gen, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Hosea is called papa, I cried while making this, I'm Sorry, Slight Canon Divergence, mentions of child abuse, not much different but different enough, seriously this is real sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23288593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missing_archive_401/pseuds/missing_archive_401
Summary: The two last times Arthur let his emotions show, and the end of it all.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	I’m Comin’

Arthur knew it was all over; all his trust vanished with his shaky breath and aching hands as Dutch spoke that one phrase.He knew Dutch, loved Dutch, saw him as a father he didn't deserve.Now he was the same one he started with, left without his mother and with an angry fist.

Dutch abandoned John, his own son, refused to go back to get him, cause of what?It'd forsake his damn _plan_.What plan was it?If it meant any man left behind, all morale left dead in the streets of Saint Denis where old blood grew cold and stares lingered.Arthur understood that John would die without help now, not later when Dutch felt like saving him.He went with Sadie, got him back, and John was back with the gang again.The only two who seemed upset with John's return were Dutch and Micah.Micah, the snake begging Dutch to eat that forbidden fruit, and Dutch, already licking his lips and asking for seconds.It hurt, it really did.Arthur's chest burned with a pain that could only be a mix of the cobwebs in his lungs and the betrayal he felt.All those years, just for a liar and a thief to sweep away his relationship with his only living father figure like dust under a rug.He was alone again, Hosea was gone and dead like Arthur's dreams for paradise, and Dutch was too far into those dreams to the point he couldn’t see past it.He needed a goddamn _vacation_ , not a plan.

Everyone in camp seemed to turn on him, everyone except John, Sadie, Charles, and Abigail.They watched with horror as Dutch snapped at Arthur, curling his fists tightly into Arthur's shirt, but didn't say a thing.They walked away,eyes wide with disbelief and uncertainty.They didn't ask Arthur if he was okay, or try to support him.They left him, like a sick dog with a broken leg, dropped off on the side of the road.

It only took a phrase to build up every wall Dutch carefully put down in Arthur's mind over the years.

_**"I had a goddamn plan!"** _

It was yelled, spit flying in Arthur's face, a look of wild unadulterated rage on the older man's face.It was pure anger, no clarity in his eyes.And Arthur felt it as much as he saw it.Dutch saw it too, the way Arthur flinched, fear in his eyes before his face hardened like stone.Saw years of pain etched and carved into a vulnerable little boy, all in one split second that Arthur put his guard down.The last time Arthur put his guard down, or at least, second to last.A different Dutch, a past Dutch, would feel guilty, apologize and try to fix what he did.But Dutch wasn’t himself anymore, and not an ounce of remorse slipped into his mind; just hatred. 

Arthur coughed and spit blood as he turned, covering it with dirt he kicked with his boot, a deep frown on his face as he tried to not let his lips quiver.He marched over to Traveller, whose ears were pinned in unease, mounted up and left camp in silence.Dutch stared after him, something weary pooling in his stomach.

“Just leave ‘em, boss.Black Lung’ll be just fine.” Micah soothed, back in Dutch’s ear and reassuring him.Dutch didn’t feel anything anymore, turned away and that was that.

Arthur knew it would get worse, understood his role as the one to free John’s family, understood he had to die.But he realized, as Dutch stepped on Arthur’s now broken fingers, Arthur gasping in pain, that he didn’t really want to die.Tears rolled down Arthur’s cheeks, hot and unbearable, his body racked with tremors as he rolled over, a groan leaving his lips as he stared at Dutch.That fear, that vulnerability of a fourteen-year-old abused boy was back in Arthur’s eyes; lit them up in a haunting way.The last time he let his emotions show.He gasped for air, trying to speak, not even knowing if he said anything meaningful except for _rat_ and _liar_.He tried not to sob, his breath too short to do anything but let out hitched gasps.He watched Dutch turn, away from Micah, leaving him, _abandoning_ _him_ , and he laughed; happy but not more than a high pitched intake of air as he rolled over again, crawling with broken and bloody fingers to see the sunrise one last time.

Dutch watched, tears slipping down his cheeks as his son struggled in his own blood across the slope.A smear stretched along the rock in a sickening “c” shape.A sob escaped him, guilt-racked and sorrowful, as his oldest looked out towards the horizon, far way into the distance at nothing, speaking out to no one but someone at the same time.Someone they both knew.A flash of blonde hair and dark eyes flickered in Arthur’s greying eyes.Arthur croaked, raising his cracked and bloody hand outwards, and spoke for the last time.

“Hey Papa, wait for me, please, I’m comin’.”


End file.
